Don't Take This Risk
by 8Daisy8
Summary: This is based on the game Don't Take This Risk. I tried to stay as true to the original story as I could while still incorporating my own twist. It leans toward the more romantic aspects in the game. Still, dark subject matter warning. Takes on themes of suicide and depression.
1. A Risky Love

**Don't Take This Risk**

It was fairly late one evening as I arrived home from work, exhausted as I discarded my belongings on the coffee table and collapsed on the couch. I stripped myself of my sweater and shoes and reclined onto the soft material, stretching as far as I could on the tiny piece of furniture. It was another dark night filled with stars, visible just outside a window over my sink. I peered through the semi-foggy glass at the twinkling sky, feeling my eyes growing heavy.

I was roused from sleep by my vibrating phone, left on the table beside me. I shifted, pushing myself to a sitting position and rubbing at my eyes. Glancing at the clock on the wall, I found that it was still the middle of the night and, brushing my hair behind my ear, I picked up the phone.

"Hello?" I answered groggily.

The voice that came through the line was charming yet languid, a French accent noticeably thick. "Hello?" A pause. "This is... This is the suicide hotline, yes?"

My breath caught in my throat as I panicked for words. I managed to stutter, "Um... no, it isn't."

What else was there to say? I had to hope that this person wouldn't be too disappointed with my answer, especially considering who they were attempting to reach.

"Oh," came a stale, slack reply. Then realization. " _Oh._ I see. Yes, this was clearly a sign that I should not have called... It was my mistake. I will hang up now."

My heart leapt. _Do something, do something! You can't let him hang up!_ I feared the worst. The least I could do was keep him on the line until he was in the right hands.

"No, hold on! Let me get you the right number, at least." I was on my feet as fast as I could be, rustling papers around and trying to find a phone book. "It has to be here somewhere," I mumbled to myself. I heard the man on the other end chuckle to himself almost ironically and I pressed my lips together anxiously.

"There's no need. What I said earlier, it was a careless joke." He was definitely making excuses to try to end the call. "Do not think any more about it. Goodbye now."

The finality in his tone seemed too grave. If he didn't want the number, I had to at least be sure he wouldn't hurt himself after our call. I could feel myself shaking at the weight of the situation. I needed to save him somehow. No one ever deserved to feel this way.

"No!" I shouted nearly desperately. Pulling my tone into something more tame, I begged, "Stay and talk to me."

"About what?" He asked hesitantly.

"What's your name?" Maybe if I could get him to start opening up to me, we would get somewhere. I would probably never know why, but I felt a strong pull toward this stranger. I wanted to help him, to save him, if even for just another day. I wanted to show him that he could still find happiness in his life, even if times were dark at the moment. Although, he kept putting up walls with every response he gave. The next one was no different.

"I'm nobody." His words seemed stuttered and kind of forced. It was almost like he wanted to give his name, but changed his mind. Quickly, I drew a reference and hoped that he would understand as well. I wanted to connect with him even further.

"Emily Dickinson, right?" I forced my voice into a sweet, lighthearted tone, silently begging him to know what I was talking about. A short laugh bubbled from the other end of the line and my heart fluttered a bit.

"Heh. Are you a nobody too? Then there's a pair of us. Don't tell!" I could feel the humorous nature of his words wash over me like a relief. He sounded genuinely pleased to be having such conversation. My mind was flooding with possible ways to keep this going as I once again returned to the couch I had been lounging on.

"Who's your favorite author?"

"Eh... I find myself very fond of Christopher Marlowe's work. Shakespeare is quite nice too." His voice suddenly became passionate as he began reciting his next words. " _O Mistress mine, where are you roaming? O, stay and hear, your true love's coming... That can sing both high and low: Trip no further, pretty sweeting; Journeys end in lovers meeting-_ " As he finished, his tone lowered back to normal a bit, seemingly put off by his own words. "Ah, in lovers meeting... If only my journey could end in such a way. Alas, I am to be forever unloved. And that is fine."

No. How could he accept that so easily? I could hear the blood rushing in my ears, the adrenaline of fear taking over my body once more. Almost as if I could feel his finger about to press the 'end' button on his phone, my brain scattered to look for a way to keep him on the line. I came to the words he so wanted to hear, turning them over in my head, like rotating an hour glass and watching the sand flow this way and that. Before I knew it, the words escaped from my lips.

"I love you."

There, I had said it. I could only hope that he wouldn't snap at me and think I was deceiving him. There was no way to tell where he was in his head right now. I knew almost nothing about this man, but his life mattered, and I had to make him see that. As for the words I had spoken, I had never said them to anyone but a family member before and I was thoroughly embarrassed, a deep red creeping along my face. I brought a nail to my lips, lightly tapping it between my teeth as I waited for him to react.

"Eh? Do you really mean that, miss?" Disbelief and amazement flooded though his voice. "You love me?"

It took a moment for him to really digest the words I think, because I was doing the same thing. Turning them over and over in my mind and trying to decipher just what they could mean under these circumstances.

"I... want to see you." My mouth opened to speak but I quickly bit my lip to silence myself. The possibilities were being carded through in my mind; what was the worst that could happen? "Please come see me, Mademoiselle." My heart jumped at the purr in his accent, a welcome chill running down my spine. "My lovely Mademoiselle... what is your name? Who are you? Tell me who you are."

The man's voice lilted with emotion and sent heat all throughout my being, my very core set on fire by his fervor. There was no backing out now, and not just because of the situation. "I'm Heidi."

"Heidi," he repeated, my name sounding exotic on his tongue. "What a beautiful sound. Heidi, will you come see me?"

"All right." My answer was immediate. I wouldn't back away from this man without ensuring his safety.

"I'll be waiting," he promised. Then as an afterthought, "Oh, let me give you the directions to my house. Where are you coming from?"

"You really came." He sounded genuinely happy when I showed up at his door. It felt so surreal to me. I barely knew this man. I had spent maybe fifteen minutes on the phone with him, and per his request I had walked, quite briskly, to his home in the middle of the night. Temperatures were also low and near freezing, making me shiver restlessly, which I think he could see as he moved to envelope me in his arms. The embrace brought me face to chest with him and I could hear his heart beating strong and steadily, reminding me that he was still alive. Pulling back and taking my hand, he led me into his room. "Come, come, sit."

We settled on his bed, still hand and hand. I couldn't make out many features of his face, as it was mostly shadowed by the hood on his head. His long, light hair flowed out from beneath the hood, his eyes slightly glowing in the dim lighting. His thumb began gently stroking my knuckles and my face reddened. The man's eyes were filled with warmth and a smile stretched across his face.

"I can't believe you really exist. You are so beautiful." The words came out breathlessly. "Can I fetch you anything? A bite to eat, a glass to drink?"

"If you're cold, I can warm you up..." His smile turned a bit mischievous.

"I'm fine," I answered, flustered, and looked away. When I turned back, his face was nearing mine. He meant to kiss me, no doubt. And who was I to stop him? He needed this. Maybe even I needed this. I found myself mesmerized by the expression in his features. Pure lust, longing, fear. I was magnetized, and our lips brushed lightly at first, then more firmly. I felt like his kiss could consume me; like a slow burning fire, warming my lips and spreading through my body.

"There's so much I want to do with you." His words raked through my nerves, leaving goosebumps in their wake. The implication in his words was staggering. "So much I want to know about you." His breath fanned over my ear as he nuzzled my cheek. I squeezed our locked hands tighter together and my free hand tugged at his shirt of its own will. "I want to hear everything about you."

I came back to myself slightly, pulling back to look into his eyes, which were mostly hidden under his hood. I cautiously reached for the material, trying to unveil his face. His slender fingers caught my wrist in a gentle grasp. "Heidi." It was the first time he'd said my name in person, sending a jolt through me. Our gazes were searching each other, trying to understand. I tried to move my hand toward his hood once more, but his hold remained so I settled on his cheek instead. I felt the heat radiating off of him, a fuzzy, dizzying heat.

"I'd rather hear more about you," I quipped. He leaned into my touch, smiling.

"What do you want to know, love?" That was a loaded question. There was still so much to learn about this man. The attraction I felt toward him was natural and I couldn't help that, but for starters...

"What's your name?" It felt silly given all that had happened thus far, without even knowing such a simple thing.

"I'm whatever you want me to be, darling. Call me whatever you like." His chipper tone combined with the words were very unnerving. It felt sad, somehow. "Now let me ask you a question. Why do you love me?"

My mind went blank for a moment. Why did I have to say that? Love is a strong word. It makes people crazy. So many thoughts raced through my mind. But I was never big on lying and so I chose my words carefully.

"Why not?" This was a loaded question as well, I realized. This would either suffice as an answer or open a whole new door full of uncertainty.

"Why not?" he repeated back. "Because I am a stranger. Because I could be a _murderer_ for all you know." My heart skipped a beat. Two beats. "But don't worry. Even if I am, I wouldn't kill you or anyone else you care for. Because I love you." His tone was very endearing, certainly, but the subject matter was... scary. This brought me back to how we met, what we had talked about, even if very briefly.

"Then can you do something for me?"

He narrowed his eyes with adoration, brushing his fingers through my hair. "Anything." That one word made me shiver. He was clearly already devoted. I took a breath.

"Call the suicide hotline." I watched his face for a few moments, seeing several emotions pass over it, but settling on one; betrayal.

"So, it's about that? The reason you _said_ you love me, the reason you're _acting_ like you care..." His tone was dark and with every word, he began untangling himself from me. "You want me to call the hotline - to pawn me off to somebody else."

"I never said I didn't love you," was the first thing that popped out of my mouth. My face was contorted with my desperation. I grabbed for his hand again, holding it tight with both of my own. His face relaxed a bit.

"Do you?" He set his right hand on the other side of the bed, of me, right next to my hip. He leaned forward, close enough for me to feel his breath. "You don't know what kind of man I am." A small smirk settled on his lips. "Or just how hungry I am." I could feel the hand by my hip fisted tightly into the sheets. "I want to eat you up, _Mademoiselle_."

My breathing was quite shallow as he leaned over me. Gathering courage, I spoke, "You don't scare me." His smirk widened.

"But I should."

He pressed his mouth against mine, gazing into my eyes as if daring me to make the next move. I squeezed my eyes shut, feeling him press our bodies together and gasping at the sensation. His tongue slowly smoothed over my lower lip and I retaliated by nibbling his lip in return, slightly returning to our previous aura. I felt his deep moan ripple through me before he pulled away, muttering, "You like that, don't you?" He kept close to me, but spoke detachedly, "So you'll just let me have my way with you?"

"Will it stop you from hurting yourself?" My eyebrows knit together in concern.

"You shouldn't give yourself away so easily like that. Least of all, for a stranger like me." The man's deep voice rang louder. "Really, what if I were to tell you that I am a killer? That I know what it is like to crush someone's heart, to see the blood drain from one's skin..." A somber tone crept in. "and the warmth from one's eyes?"

"I won't let you kill yourself." He chuckled.

"You're stubborn. I like that." As he leaned his head on my shoulder, his forehead rested against my neck and his hair tickled my skin. His lips brushed against me as he asked, "Why do you care about me?"

Before he could react, I pulled the hood from his head and threaded my fingers through his hair. My other hand wound around his back, hugging him close. He stiffened a bit.

"Because I love you." The words felt more true now than ever. This was more than a physical attraction. I truly felt for this man. I could feel his pain, how deeply he suffered. I wanted to fix what was broken, mend his wounds, make him whole again.

"You love me?" He repeated the words with disbelief, with a glow of hope around his accent.

"That's right. And I'm never letting you go."

"A-" He seemed to contemplate for a split second. "Ahaha... is that so?" His arms circled my abdomen and held tightly to the material of my shirt. "Well, who says I would want you to?"

I leaned my head on his, feeling his heart beat along with mine; a happy, fast-paced pounding. A dangerous romance, an unstable foundation. I was determined to find a way to make this work. It could be attributed to my own loneliness, but what did I have to lose? I looked down at the man in my arms, held fast to me in a light slumber. I pressed a soft kiss to his hair and he lightly groaned, snuggling closer.

 **Risky Love Ending**


	2. Keep Your Eye On Me

**Don't Take This Risk**

I was walking along the dark sidewalks of the suburbia when I got the call. It was very unexpected, crazy even, but it was real. The man was looking for a suicide hotline and instead had dialed my number. What was someone supposed to say in this situation? I was literally stopped in my tracks, feeling the cold envelope me and watching the clouds of breath float upward from my mouth. I felt bad for him, but what could I do for him? The chill seemed to keep me grounded and I was thankful for it. My eyes closed and I vaguely recalled memories where I was in the same position.

What was I willing to do for this man in need when I didn't even know him? There had to be something, anything. A lot of people don't realize it, but _dead is forever_. You can't just say 'oh, I was wrong, nevermind' because it's too late! In my mind, suicide was a permanent solution to a temporary problem. As they say, 'this too shall pass'. Of course, my positive thinking on the subject didn't just materialize out of thin air. Strength is something you're born with often; many are lacking. Strength is something learned, something gained by way of hardship.

He appealed to me because of our similar histories, or at least what I assumed was similar history given all the suicidal talk. So naturally when he asked me to visit him at his home, I obliged, to make sure he was okay if nothing else.

* * *

"Come, come." He said, ushering me inside. "You must be freezing." He led me to his bed and we both sat down, him sliding a blanket over both of us and an arm around my shoulders. He pulled me close, feeling me shiver. Both the weather and this man himself were giving me the chills. He was advancing rather fast in my mind, being quite direct with his physicality.

What was I thinking, coming to a complete stranger's house on a whim? This was dangerous, terrifying even. I was acutely aware every time he moved a single digit, every movement of his eye, every shuttering, quiet breath.

"If you're still cold, I can warm you up." His smile was sly and I stuttered for an answer but found nothing to say. He chuckled at my nervousness.

"So, you wanted to come check on me, yes? Do I seem to be in satisfactory condition?"

I looked him over. He had on baggy clothes, a blanket tossed over his head, besides the one he had draped over both of us. His long, blonde hair was in scattered tendrils peeking from beneath the material. His face did seem pretty clean shaven, though, and his teeth were as white as could be. He didn't seem to be too deeply removed from himself. But I knew from personal experience that looks aren't everything. No matter how a person looks on the outside, you should never judge a book by its cover.

"Actually, yes, but..." I trailed off, unsure of how to continue. I bit my lip and I saw his eyes train on the action. "Are you okay?" What a dry question. It left so much open to explore, which was both good and bad. But he'd probably been asked that many times over and I was more than likely a broken record to his ears.

"As long as you are here, darling, what more could I think of?" He caressed my cheek. I flinched, and he recoiled. I immediately felt bad but I barely knew this man. He was definitely being a bit more cautious, knowing that I had my guard up. "I think the real question here is, are _you_ okay?"

"What do you mean?" I furrowed my eyebrows, confused. "You were the one who called _me_."

"But you seem very jumpy, _Mademoiselle_." He purred the words out, eyeing me carefully. "You seem to need the help here."

"Um, I-" Just as I was about to turn the conversation back toward him, he interrupted.

"So, tell me, _mon cherie_ , who hurt you? Your relatives? A teacher? A lover, perhaps?" He squeezed my hand and I had half a mind to pull away. "Please, tell me who you are, Mademoiselle. I want to know _everything_ about you." The man's deep green eyes widened a bit before adding, "Oh, how silly of me! I don't even know your name!"

I stayed quiet, unsure how to proceed. I just looked at him, thoroughly perplexed. Did he really feel suicidal or was he just looking for attention? It was so hard to tell.

"I-It's Heidi. But I'd rather hear more about you..." I trailed off before giving him much the same look he gave me. It would only be fair for him to tell me his name as well.

"Ah, I'm... nobody, darling." The answer was very dodgy, another red flag, but I didn't press it. Time to get straight to the point.

"Please be honest with me, do you really want to hurt yourself?"

His smile dropped a bit. "I know I may not look the part. I've a had a lot of time to practice hiding it."

"Then tell me why you were trying to reach the suicide hotline."

"Maybe I wasn't." My heart sputtered and my stomach dropped. What was that supposed to mean? I peered at him carefully, taking in his features and trying to read his emotions. He reached his hand out for my cheek again. This time I was too frightened to move away. "What would you do if I told you that I am a killer?"

I remained completely still, gauging his actions. His hand moved further along my face, brushing a stray hair behind my ear and embedding itself in the soft brunette locks. His gripped tightened and he moved closer, his breath fanning over my face and making my heart flutter. On impulse, I put both of my hands against his chest and immediately felt him chuckle.

"But don't worry. Even if I am, I won't kill you or anyone else you care for." His face dropped to my neck, his lips brushing the flesh there and sending chills down my spine. "Because I love you."

I whimpered a bit and he pulled back just enough to glance at my face. My mind was in overdrive. What was I supposed to do? I didn't know this man! I couldn't tell him I loved him back just to appease him... could I? That would be wrong, wouldn't it? But... if he really was a killer, then I needed to get out of here, and fast. My pulse quickened.

"Then can you do something for me?" I took a breath. "Call the suicide hotline. They can help you."

"So, it's about that, is it? You want me to call the hotline - so you can pawn me off to someone else." His grip on me turned vice. I winced, crumpling his shirt between my fingers.

"N-No! I care enough that I don't want to see you hurt yourself." The words came out strained and I silently begged for his satisfaction.

"Oh, really?" The man lightly tugged at the hair in his hand, exposing my neck more fully. He ran his lips over the skin of my neck, slowly, making me have to sustain the carnal noises rising in my throat. Ghosting over my cheek, and stopping at the corner of my mouth, he muttered, "You don't know what kind of man I am."

His mouth came together with mine, a soft, warm experience that left me breathless. "Or just how _hungry_ I am." Again, his lips pressed mine roughly and I fell back at the strength in the kiss. "I want to eat you up, Mademoiselle." Brushing our lips together once more, he flitted his tongue out to taste my bottom lip. In the small space, I pushed back on his chest and gave him a swift slap to the cheek. For a moment, I was absolutely horrified by what I had done, covering my mouth with wide eyes.

Then he started laughing. It was a loud ringing noise at first, but dissipated quickly. He caught my wrist in his grip. "You really aren't scared of me, are you?"

"Then, do you want to play, love?" The gleam in his eyes was scaring me and I panicked. I used my full weight to flip him onto his back, now I was straddling him and both the blanket on his head and the one that had been around us fluttered to the ground. He groaned, followed by a playful chuckle. "You win. Now what, kitten?"

He moved his hand to twine with mine, his smooth fingers caressing the skin of my wrist. I inhaled and buried my face in his chest, mortified. His other hand reached up to tangle in my hair again. No matter how much he pretended to love me, he was mentally unhinged. Remembering who I was with, I lifted my face. "I'm calling the police."

"And telling them what? That I attacked you?" His eyes were angry before they became filled with sorrow as he snapped at me. "That I want to end my miserable existence? Or is it both?"

He took a few deep breaths. The light haired man dropped his hands back against the bed, palms up, as if surrendering. But his eyes held me in place. "That's fine," he murmured. "That's fine."

I sat hovering over him, staring at him for what felt like hours, days even. The way his eyes were a dark green mesmerized me, along with the flash of emotions I caught every so often. From sadness, to anger, to enamored, and back to his depressive state. Even though I was afraid, my insides were churning with the desire to help him. His vision seemed to look into me, my very being. I could feel his need for love, affection; his loneliness and his pain. I could feel his darkness overcoming him more as the seconds ticked by.

"I have a gun in my desk." My blood ran cold. My mind kept going back and forth; killer or suicidal; him or me? "I suggest you shoot me and put me out of my misery."

"Wha- Why-" I started, completely frazzled. My hands settled back on his chest, the material of his shirt soft in my grasp. This was still another human being. I couldn't let this happen to him. This desolate sadness, this black hole filled with agony, could destroy a person. I needed to save him! No one deserves this! _He doesn't deserve this!_

"Because I'm going to bite my tongue off."

My mind went blank, completely and utterly blank. How was I supposed to stop that? I did the only thing I could think of. I dove my tongue past his lips and met his own, holding it captive. My heart beat intensely, fast and hard. My eyes opened to meet his. He was obviously as surprised at my action as I was. Eventually, he closed his eyes and brought his arms around me, deepening the kiss. It lasted forever, or at least felt like it. It was a constant battle of tongues, of teeth, of lips. Over and over I fought for control of his mouth, silently pleading with him to not go through with his intentions.

When I finally pulled back, hesitantly so, I was gasping for breath and was surprised to find that he was as well.

"Just how long do you think you can keep that up?" He panted.

"For as long it takes to keep you alive."

I closed in on him once more, but he caught my face between his palms. Looking me straight in the eyes, he burned his passion into me.

"I love you, darling."

* * *

 _My sweet angel. How I admire you. You are my world. I love you. Never leave me. Never leave my side. I will never leave yours. You will always be in my heart._

 **Keep Your Eye On Me Ending**


	3. Bleeding Out

**Don't Take This Risk**

I awoke to my phone vibrating in the night. The bright screen partially lit up my bedroom. The caller ID was an unknown number, but still groggy after being pulled from sleep so suddenly, I answered. The voice on the other end had a french accent and I was taken by surprise; it had to be a wrong number. As I tried to confirm this, the man pleaded with me to tell him that he had reached the suicide hotline. I shuddered. Suicide? That was way beyond me. I told him calmly that I was not what he was looking for but he sounded so desperate. I could almost feel him teetering on the edge of a skyscraper; feel him step up onto a chair, step up to a noose; feel him sitting on a dock, his ankles weighted down with cement blocks.

Foolishly, in an attempt to console him, and also myself, I told him my name and agreed to meet him at his house.

* * *

When he answered the door, he seemed to be in less than a stable mindset, immediately pulling me to him like an old friend or lover. But I just grinned and bared it, feeling as if I were walking on eggshells. The hug seemed to last longer than I was comfortable with and I subconsciously started to squirm in his grip. Noticing this, he pulled back but took hold of my hand, pecking the back of it lightly before clasping it between both of his soft ones.

"You are so beautiful. I can't believe you really exist," he says as his eyes glint with amazement. I smiled, trying to offer a benevolent demeanor. He offered food or drink, and I timidly asked for a glass of water. He led me to his bed, seemingly the only thing to furnish the house that wasn't covered with clutter. "Please wait here a moment, love."

My cheeks flamed at this, and he walked away with a knowing smile. As I heard him fiddling with glasses and the faucet in the kitchen area, my eyes wandered. There seemed to be clothes and papers scattered everywhere along with a few dirty dishes on some of the side tables and the coffee table; who knows how bad the sink looked. As he returned with the glass of water, he pushed it into my hands as he settled down directly next to me, our legs touching. His hand was on the bed between us and I could feel his fingers brush me as he adjusted himself.

"If you're cold I can warm you up." The man bared his teeth at me in a full, good-natured smile, a nervous chuckle coming afterwards. I gulped down some of the liquid, hoping it would excuse me from replying. This guy sure wasn't making anything easy. Remembering why I'd come here in the first place, I gathered my resolve and looked him in the eyes.

"I don't want you to kill yourself." The corner of his mouth still quirked up and he seemed to brush my statement off.

"Darling," he moved to stroke my face, his hand resting under my chin. "As long as you're with me, that will be the furthest thing from my mind."

He plucked the glass from my hands, setting it aside, and I stuttered in confusion. His lips were upon mine in an instant. It was a threshold being thrown open, a black hole that sucked you in, a relentless tug of war to keep my awareness. That was his kiss. It was madness, lust... innocence. The lips of a man who had not been shown affection for quite some time. **Hunger**.

He pulled back, leaving me both breathless and weightless.

"So much I want to do with you," he muttered through his heavy breathing. "So much I want to know about you." He said these words with a hissing edge. "I want to hear," He trailed his mouth down to my throat, rubbing his nose against me as his hot breath washed over me. "everything about you."

He slightly lifted his head, his eyes searching mine, startlingly alive in the moment. I could see my glazed over expression reflected back at me, shaming me. He had kissed me and yet I still felt that I was the one taking advantage of the situation. It was true that I had been deprived of such tenderness myself, but this could have meant much more to this man than me. He had called me for help and here I was getting all hot and bothered. I cleared my throat, but my voice still came out hoarse.

"I'd rather know more about you." He laughed lightly.

"What do you want to know, love?"

Stupidly, my mind was numb from his earlier advances and so I spoke of the first thing I noticed coming out of my fog.

"Is that a blanket on your head?"

"Hm?" He didn't seem to notice at all, like it had become a habit or a part of him to have this fabric over him at all times. His wavy blonde hair was mussed just beneath of the offending material. "Oh, yes. I can't say I felt like getting out of bed as of late." My heart twinged. He added as an afterthought, "Or having a proper meal." My stomach dropped. His voice was ashamed as he averted his eyes, like he hated himself. It made me want to burst into tears on the spot until his eyes were on me again. "Until now." I couldn't see much past his eyes, given the proximity, but I could hear the smirk in his voice.

"Speaking of which, darling," he started, seemingly adamant to get back on track. "Why _do_ you love me?"

For fuck's sake. What am I doing here? This man needed professional help and it wasn't me. I blurted out another stupid remark.

"Because you're hot."

He chuckled deeply. Could he tell I was blowing smoke here? I didn't know what to say honestly, and it was all I could do to deflect and flatter him.

"You didn't even know what I looked like before. Unless you meant that I sounded hot." He rested his hand on the other side of me, fisted in the sheets. I could feel the cushioned haven ripple with what felt like his shivers. "Either way, I'll take it as a compliment, my _hot_ little kitten." He breathed into my ear, nibbling it gently as the hot waves of his words made me quiver. "But you know, looks are deceiving." My breathing hitched, and his next words sounded genuinely worried for me. "For all you know, I could be a killer. But don't worry," he reassured. "Even if I am, I wouldn't kill you or anyone else you care for." His free hand's fingertips glided up and down my back comfortingly. "Because I love you."

I slowly let out the breath I had been holding. "Then can you do something for me?"

"Anything." He sounded like he was pleading. That didn't make it any easier to say my next words...

"Call the suicide hotline." He untangled himself from me slightly, eyeing me with suspicion.

"So it's about that? The reason you said you love me, the reason why you're acting like you care." His masculine voice sounded volatile, betrayed. "You want me to call the hotline to pawn me off to someone else."

"I care enough that I don't want to see you hurt." I told him firmly, holding both his hands in mine tightly. I bore my eyes into his, begging silently to reach him with my words.

Seeming downright shocked, he said, "Oh, really?" He was definitely taken aback. But my new admission fueled him further. He basically had me in his lap, pulling me close to him, but still allowing me enough space to gaze upon his expression, which looked more smoldering than ever. "You don't know the kind of man I am. Or just how hungry I am. I want to eat you up, Mademoiselle."

"You don't scare me." I tried to keep my voice as steady as I could, even if it did come out huskily. He narrowed his eyes.

"But I should." He closed the distance between us once again. He attacked my mouth with unyielding passion; unsettling, rough passion. As much as I wanted to indulge him, and myself, I pulled away and slapped him, giving him a firm look. But to my surprise, he just laughed and grabbed my offending hand, leaning in. "You really aren't scared of me, are you? Then do you want to play, love?"

I threw my full weight upon him and pushed him back against the bed, straddling him and sending his blonde locks sprawling around him. The sight of the gorgeous man in this position distracted me momentarily. The first few of his shirt buttons had come undone, revealing a well-toned chest beneath, his excited eyes drinking her image in as well. His hand is still wrapped with mine and his thumb brushed lovingly along my wrist.

"Now what, kitten?" Okay, now or never; time to get serious.

"I'm calling the police." It was a bold bluff, but I was determined to save him.

"And telling them... what?" His demeanor changed. He no longer caressed me and his eyes grew cold. "That I attacked you? That I want to end my miserable existence? Or is it both?" He paused to collect himself briefly, sighing with his next words. "That's fine. That's... _fine_. I have a gun in my desk. I suggest you shoot me and put me out of my misery." His bitterness was aided heavily by the harshness of his accent. "Because I'm going to bite my tongue off."

My eyes widened. "W- ... S-..."

I couldn't speak and before I knew it, he had clamped his teeth down around the appendage. I could hear the the wet, fleshy **_smash_** as the deed was done. The pain kicked in almost immediately. His eyes went wide, looking as if they could pop out of his head at any moment. His throaty screams of agony battled his gasps for breath through thick blood pooling in his mouth. Scrambling to do something, _anything_ , I threw myself on the bedding next to him and pulled him into my lap. I sat him up swiftly, his head supported by my hand. I tried to help him breathe by draining some of the blood out of his mouth. It dripped in puddles down onto his clothes and my other arm, which was wound around his torso. Sputtering, he gripped my arm with his hands so tightly I thought my bones would crack.

"It'll be okay! I'll get you h-help! I-I-Oh, my God. F-Fuck... God dammit, I wanted to save you!" My tears began to fall freely down my cheeks. "I'm so sorry! I'm s-sorry!"

And just before it all went still, he smiled at me; a wide, sincere smile, even if his eyes were overflowing with pain. I screamed. I sobbed loudly, as a child would. I clutched his bloodied body to me, brushing the hair back from his face. His eyes were still staring at me and I hugged his head to my chest tightly.

 **Bleeding Out Ending**


	4. Out Of Breath

**Don't Take This Risk**

Another late night, another shift completed, and another long walk home through the empty streets of the city. I had been working as a suicide hotline respondent for almost a year now and was used to the conditions. The hours were long, the pay was 'competitive', but averagely so, and it was unsurprisingly depressing. I mean, we sit in little cubicles answering calls for people who want to take their lives all day long. It's expected. Of course, the company makes all of the employees visit the designated therapist at least once a week to maintain our mental health. We definitely needed it.

My phone started to ring in my pocket. Glancing at the caller ID, I noticed it was a call forwarded from the office. Being the industry that it is, the office is open all hours of day and is only closed on holidays, in which case the calls are forwarded to the designated employees at the designated hours. My phone showed the time was just after midnight and it was now new year's day. Being that I had just finished my shift, I found it odd that the call was forwarded to my phone. Maybe it was a some kind of mix up, and be that as it may, this wasn't a call that I could ignore.

"Hello?"

"H-Hello. This is the suicide hotline, yes?" The man's voice was lightly charming but there was underlying sadness.

"Yes, it is. What can I do for you, sir?"

"Well... I was just thinking 'Will anyone ever love me?'" The low tones he spoke in were usual, as well as the subject. Many people call because they feel down and out about not having a significant other. "But now I realize that it's a useless question. I already know the answer to that."

I took a breath, preparing the appropriate response in my mind. He started talking again before I could answer, though.

"I don't want or need empty reassurance. Pretty words mean nothing without heart." Well that was different. Usually the callers are on the line for just that reason. Of course the reassurance is empty coming from people like us. We're complete strangers, only connected to each other because of the hotline. This man was different; he already knew all of this before calling... So what did he expect? "And I will never have anyone's heart. No one will ever love me. Farewell."

My brain scrambled for a response. What could I say to a man who was so self-aware? I stammered out a reply quickly.

"Stay and talk to me!"

Straightforwardness would have to do for the moment. It definitely wasn't in the hotline handbook. The line was silent for a moment and my heart beat hard. When they hang up, it never turns out well. The beeping to signal the disconnection never came. Instead, the voice spoke again.

"About what?"

Alright, I got him to bite. I had to keep him talking for as long as possible. It usually takes a few minutes for the calls through the company to be traced, just in case the worst is suspected and the authorities need to be sent.

"Anything you want. I'm here to listen."

"There's... nothing I want to talk about." He wasn't making this easy; then again it never was.

"Do you have any family or friends?"

"Do you think I would have called if I..." His voice was low and steady, calculating. "You're right. I should talk to them."

That was too fast of a turnaround. He was deflecting, trying to find the safest way to end the call. I started to respond again but was promptly cut off.

"Adieu."

No, no, no, he could not hang up. "I don't believe you." I could hear the immediate despair in his voice.

"I'm hurt. You don't even know me, and I've given you no reason to doubt me. Aside from that rather... unpleasant joke I made in the beginning." He trails off, an obvious lie to hide that he indeed needs help. This was an often occurrence of fleeing callers as well. "Ah... I wonder though. What is it to you? What is it to you if I live or die? I am a stranger to you. I could be halfway across the world from you." That was incorrect. The hotline covers the neighborhood it is stationed in. This line was strictly for the residents of a small area within a 20 mile radius. All other calls were directed to the international suicide hotline. Though it was true that his accent sounded foreign. "And even if I was not, you would find something to despise. Something to hate. Someone who is unloved, and so undeserving of love, is only a waste of space, no? Such a person should not live."

"Why do you think you're undeserving of love?"

"I think the better question is 'why would I deserve it?' What have I done to myself to make me so unworthy of it?" The fluctuation in the man's words were unsettling to say the least, the tone low and bitter. "Heh. Let me not scandalize you. Don't worry. I am of little consequence to anyone now. There is no one who I know and no one who knows me." The finality in his words flipped my stomach. I found myself genuinely curious and sympathetic.

"How did that happen?"

"It's what happens when you are so far from home... and when you've only ever made enemies." Then he switched the topic, seemingly without an agenda or much thought, but just because he felt the need to talk. Good; venting was progress. "Have you ever been in debt?"

"Of course there were hard times when I was living paycheck to paycheck and eating as little as I could possibly stand just to preserve food for the next day, but I wouldn't really consider that debt. I answered honestly.

"No."

"Good." His accent was silky, paving his words with eloquence. "You don't want to know what it's like when you're trapped against a wall. You could say I became a wild animal. No... I've _become_ one. And wild animals should be put down before they hurt someone." There was a click in my ear.

The rapid beating in my chest had my nerves on overdrive. I was trying to keep myself calm and my breathing even. I tried to redial the number several times, each time it went to voicemail after a few rings. Going against company policy, I began sending text messages. The first couple were ignored, but he responded eventually.

 _You sure are persistent._

 _You_

 _You you_

 _you_

 _Hahaha what a funny word._

 _actually wait... lol is the correct term for that, is it not?_

 _but I'm not lolling on the floor_

 _wait that's not what it means, does it?_

 _Hahaha_

What was going on? These messages made no sense. Was he intoxicated?

 _Are you feeling alright?_ I responded

 _nooooo?_

 _sort of_

 _i'm just DRUNK_

Just as I thought. All of his texts followed the free-flowing thought process running through his mind.

 _e_

 _n_

 _e_

 _b_

 _r_

 _i_

 _a_

 _t_

 _e_

 _d_

 _that's a pretty word prettier sound_

 _not entirely right though_

 _maybe i'm high too_

 _pills do that to u right_

 _*yu_

 _*yoo_

 _why are asterisks used for corrections?_

 _auto-correct does funny things sometimes haha_

It was hard to get a word in between all of his ranting. _Where are you?_

 _in the middle of **nowhere**_

 _hey hey you aren't trying to find out where I am_

 _so you can send help_

 _are you?_

 _that would be smart_

 _i'm trying to remember my address but it's not coming to mind._

My brain was scattering, the little shards flying off and disappearing more and more as he messaged me. His words were cracking my sanity slowly, pulling me into a silent spiral with him. I was anxious and frazzled, the training I had endured completely erased from my mind.

 _12345 sounds good_

 _2's my favorite number_

 _everyone knows 1's lonely_

 _he should get together with..._

 _what number do you think he should get together with?_

 _or maybe an alphabet would be better_

 _*a letter_

 _like a_

 _a seems lonely_

 _don't you think?_

I was trying to bring the conversation back to something sensible.

 _Try to think of a street name._

I waited a couple of minutes. Without realizing, I had stopped walking home at some point and was standing in the middle of the sidewalk. I sat on the nearest bench, clutching my phone desperately, waiting for his response. Maybe he was trying to find his address. I fiddled with a loose string on the hem of my sleeve. I checked the screen again. Nothing.

 _Are you okay?_

Another few moments passed and all I could feel was my heartbeat pounding throughout my body. When his answer came, I let out a little shudder of relief, though it was short lived.

 _sorry i blacked out for a moment there_

 _what were you u sayin_

 _g_

 _oh wait i can just scroll up_

 _too many texts_

 _so much white_

 _should change my background before i die_

A sob shook my body and I brought my hand to my mouth, biting the side of one of my fingers.

 _what should be my last parting message_

 _Please, you're scaring me._ I typed with shaking hands.

 _don't be scared_

 _it's a good thing_

 _a good good thing_

 _i've been thinking of how i wanted to die_

 _i suppose this is the classic route_

 _maybe i should've taken the road less traveled_

 _but i don't like bloodying my hands that much_

 _maybe i'm a coward_

 _i don't like pain_

I wanted to tell him, _No! You're not a coward. You're another brave human being in this world and you deserve to be alive and be happy!_ But tears began blurring my eyes and I had to put the phone in my lap to wipe my face of the dripping stream. His messages kept coming.

 _if i don't have to have it_

 _but i'm being too nice to myself i think_

 _i don't deserve such a nice death_

 _at all_

I looked up at the sky. You couldn't see most of the stars because of all of the city lights, but the waxing moon was bright. I wondered if this man really was on the other side of the world after all and if the phone lines had connected him to her through fate. Maybe I am just crazy, or maybe the situation was affecting my state of mind, but I firmly believe everything happens for a reason. So without giving it much thought, I typed,

 _What time is it for you?_

A few moments passed. I sat patiently, trying to plug the well of tears. But the next words on my phone screen had me gasping for breath.

 _icantbreathe_

 _help me_

 _help_

Tell me where you are. I typed as fast as possible.

 _ragerageagainstthedyingofthelight_

Soon my whole vision was consumed by the word 'rage' repeated over and over again in his messages.

 _helpme_

 _cantbreathe_

 _help_

I tried another text. No response came for... well, for too long. I called the number back. To my surprise, he picked up immediately but I spoke first.

"Oh thank god, are you alright?!" I heard slight breathing, strained. "H-Hello? A-Are you there?"

"I was deadly still and quiet as I sat and listened. I was listening to him gasp for air and choke on what I assumed could only be his own vomit from too much alcohol and too many pills. I covered my mouth as silent tears rolled down my cheeks. The only words racing through my mind were those of apologies. 'I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'msosorrysorrysorryI'msorryI'msorrysorrysorrysorrysorrysorrysorrysorrysorrysorrysorrysorrysorrysorrysorrysorrysorrysorrysorrysorrysorrysorrysorrysorrysorry.'

It killed me to do it but I disconnected the call and dialed the police. But as they went through the process of asking me questions and I explained the situation to them, I realized that... I really didn't know anything about this man.

Could you tell them anything useful like where he was?

Did you figure out enough to save him...?

 **Out of Breath Ending**


End file.
